Movement.
A flicker in the shadows ten feet away.
One of the men beside me shifted, his hand creeping toward his waistband.
"Down!"
I lunged for Rage, shoving her to the ground as the first shot rang out.
The bullet sliced through the space where her head had been.
Then chaos erupted.
The gunfire wasn't loud. It wasviolent—a percussive blast that punched through the warehouse and slammed against my eardrums. Brass casings pinged off the concrete, bouncing and spinning. Muzzle flashes cut through the darkness in strobing bursts, leaving afterimages burned into my vision.
Bodies dropped.
Someone screamed—a short, wet sound that cut off mid-note.
The metallic tang of blood mixed with oil and rust, thick enough to taste.
I moved on instinct.
My gun barked in my hand, each shot syncing with the hammering of my heart. Recoil kicked up my arm. The slide cycled. Hot brass kissed my cheek.
"Kill them all!" Rage shouted over the noise.
I didn't need to be told twice.
I kept firing until my magazine ran dry and the slide locked back with aclickthat seemed impossibly quiet.
The echoes of gunfire slowly faded into a ringing silence.
The floor was slick with blood. Dark. Spreading. Seeping into the cracks in the concrete.
The air was thick with smoke—cordite and something else, something acrid that clung to the back of my throat.
Only our side was left standing.
My suit was splattered with someone else's blood. Warm. Already cooling.
I breathed heavily, my chest burning from the adrenaline.
I turned toward Rage—
And froze.
There was movement near the exit.
A figure slipped through the shadows, moving fast and smooth. Light on her feet. Too quiet for someone trying to run.
I reached into my jacket for a fresh magazine, my fingers finding the cold metal—
Then the light caught her face.
Sophia.
The world went completely silent.
